Hello Again
by Magali1
Summary: After a long time, Eric returns to Dillon and has a heart-to-heart with Tim. Tim and Eric "family" fic. Mostly Eric POV. Complete.
1. Hello Again

A/N: This started off as a random fic and then I used what I had written and just wrote around it and fixed it up to turn into the Tim and Eric fic I have wanted to write for some time but could never get off the ground, so to speak. Since it was so long, I split it into two, but part 2/chapter 2 will be much longer since that one I couldn't break up. Oh and of course, I've got my Tim/Lyla because it's one of the only things I am comfortable writing, especially since this is my first time really trying to write Coach. Enjoy this. :)

* * *

Things really hadn't changed.

There was the same Texas-shaped sign, only this time it had a sign beneath it with all the years they'd won State, the most recent year being a couple years ago. He drove through the main street of town, seeing the Alamo Freeze and driving by Fran's. There was Buddy's bar and the restaurant he'd bought.

He drove the rental car by the high school, pausing at the face-lift they'd given the old building, along with the stadium and the fieldhouse. It looked…fancy. They'd finally put up the big Jumbotron and there was even a new press box and signs up on the backs of the bleachers, with numbers they'd "retired", like 6 and 20.

The park he'd been told to go visit was beyond the elementary school. He parked the car and smiled at the little kids running up and down the field, with their helmets and their jerseys and pads. This was Pee-Wee. The Pop-Warner league had their practice field at the middle school.

Every one of them was wearing blue and white with a blue "P" on their helmets. They had names sewn into the backs of their jerseys, something he knew they did for the little kids to make them feel like they were in fact part of a team. The Pee Wee Panthers.

He got out of the car, walking towards the grandmaster of Dillon football, nodding towards him. "Buddy," he said, smiling and shaking Buddy's hand. Of course Buddy, being Buddy, grabbed him in a bone-crushing hug. "Good to see you too," he managed to get out.

"Eric Taylor!" Buddy exclaimed. "How are you? Thanks for coming out, I heard you were interviewing in Austin."

Yes, interviewing. He nodded, looking out at the field. The coach was Mac McGill, who he knew had "retired" but no one ever fully retired from football in Dillon. "Yeah, thanks for calling me out here. Since when did you become the Booster for the Pee Wee league?"

"Oh it's part of a fundraiser thing we're doing with the Pee Wee, Pop Warner, and the high school," Buddy exclaimed, waving his hand. He gestured to the field, elbowing him in the ribs. "See that one? The quarterback and then there…the fullback? My grandkids." He puffed his chest, grinning wide. "Already got them young. They had a ball in their hand when they were born."

That was a surprise; he had no idea that Buddy had grandkids, especially ones old enough to be in Pee Wee. "Well, congratulations," he laughed, smacking Buddy on the back. He grinned. "I had no idea. You never said anything."

"Yeah, well, we lost touch, right?" Buddy smiled sadly, because it was true. With no need to talk anymore, and both of them on opposite ends of the country, they did lose touch. He'd lost touch with just about everyone from Dillon except for Matt Saracen and that was because his daughter married the damn kid.

He watched the quarterback fall back and throw. His eyes widened as the ball arced into the air, landing lightly at the end of the practice field at the little fullback's arms. "Wow," he whispered. He hadn't seen a kid with an arm like that since Jason Street. "Good arm."

"Yup," Buddy said again, so proud and puffing that he thought he might float away. He gestured at the kids running around.

Something made him wonder and he frowned, glancing sideways at Buddy. "Which kid?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have three kids, which one stayed in Dillon?" They were too old to be Buddy Jr.'s, unless he had them right in college. He looked back at them, the two little kids running at each other, both of them beginning to fight. "Uh oh."

"Yeah they do that a lot."

The quarterback tackled the fullback, both of them diving into the ground. One of the assistant coaches blew the whistle, separating them and gesturing towards the sidelines. They trudged over, one of them taking off his helmet.

He had dark hair, which stuck out all over his head and light gray eyes. "Grandpa!" he called out, running towards Buddy. He was bouncing on his cleats. "Didja' see me? Didja'?"

"I did Liam, I definitely did." He looked over at the other one, gesturing. "Coach Eric Taylor, meet my grandkids. This is William Buddy, but as I call him Billy Bud…"

"I don't like that Grandpa, my name is Liam."

"Okay then, fine, Liam, he's fullback and…" He smiled and pointed at the quarterback, who still hadn't taken off his helmet. "This is…"

The quarterback took off his helmet, long dark hair tumbling out.

He wasn't a he…but a she.

Eric's eyes widened at the surprise of seeing a girl playing Pee Wee football, let alone quarterback, and let alone with an arm like hers. She looked up and smiled one of the sweetest smiles he'd ever seen before, her dark eyes sparkling. "Hello Coach Taylor, I'm Sophie."

"We call her Soph," Buddy said.

"No, we call her Sophie," Sophie said, growling at him. She smiled sweetly again, the growl instantly gone. "Daddy can call me Soph."

"Fine," Buddy grumbled, rolling his eyes. He smiled and put his hands on either side of his grandkids' shoulders. "Can you both say hello to Coach Taylor?"

"Hello Coach Taylor," they said at once. The boy, Liam, glared sideways at his sister.

He drew back immediately. Eric swore he'd seen that glare before.

Liam pushed at Sophie's arm. "You hit me too hard!"

"You're a baby!" she yelled, pushing back.

The next thing he knew, both of them were fighting on the ground, with Buddy tugging them apart once more. He looked up, a look of relief on his face. "Hey guys, your dad just got here."

He turned his head, seeing a black truck pull into the parking lot beside his rental car. He glanced at the kids, both of them vibrating with excitement. They couldn't take it anymore and threw down their helmets, running towards the truck screaming "Daddy!"

Buddy slipped his sunglasses back on, his hands on his hips. "They're a handful," he said by way of explanation. "I only take them when their parents are working."

He frowned again. "You didn't…"

"Oh yeah, they're Lyla's. She came back after medical school. She's a doctor, sports medicine." Once again Buddy was puffing with joy. He waved his hand, dismissing the black truck. "My son-in-law is…ugh."

He chuckled, knowing that feeling. "I hear ya', Matt's terrified of me."

"That's the problem; my son-in-law isn't terrified of me. Anymore." Buddy looked over his shoulder. "Although he probably should be."

"Daddy come on, come meet Coach Taylor!" he heard one of the kids calling from behind him.

Turning around, he stopped, staring at Sophie and Liam's father. Eric smiled, long and slow. "Hello again," he said, his voice quiet.

Tim smiled at him, his eyes shadowed behind dark sunglasses. He held the hands of each one of the kids. "Coach."

It wasn't that it surprised him, but…well hell, it damn well surprised him. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when Buddy called him out to the Pee Wee field or when he heard that the best players on that little practice field were a pair of five-year old twins or even that they were Buddy's grandkids. He suspected they were Lyla's, but he never would have expected their father to be Tim Riggins.

Or maybe he should have, he thought, quickly hugging Tim and slapping his back. "Congratulations," he said, looking down at the kids with clearer eyes. He should have seen it. Liam was a dead-ringer for Tim, but had Lyla's smile. Sophie looked just like Tim, with Lyla's eyes, he imagined she was just as sweet, but he also suspected she had a hell of a temper, especially given the way she'd shoved the kids on the field.

Liam lifted his hands up. "Daddy me first!"

"No! Me!" Sophie yelled, shoving at Liam.

"She pushed me!"

"He started it."

Tim's jaw ticked and he took a deep breath.

Both of them froze and looked up with wide eyes. "Sorry," they mumbled at the same time, looking down at their feet.

"Back on the field."

"Okay!" they yelled and threw their helmets back on, running back out onto the grass.

He smiled, shaking his head. "Wow."

"It's a talent," Tim said dryly. He looked over at Buddy. "They behaving themselves?"

"Well they had a timeout for fighting."

"Just one?"

"Just one."

"They're getting better." Tim looked over at him and reached up to take off his sunglasses, smiling again. His hair was much shorter and he had a beard. He reached up to run his fingers through his hair, a wedding ring glinting on his left hand. "Just stopped by to check on them. Can you drop them off at the house later Mr. Garrity?"

"Tim Riggins, back in my day…"

"Back in your day the mom stayed home with the kids. You want to tell Lyla to stay at home with both of them or should I?"

They stared off at each other for a moment and Buddy sighed. "No. I'll take them home."

"Good. I gotta' get back to work." He looked over and smiled softly. "It was good to see you Coach." He turned away, heading back towards the truck.

What the hell? There was no way he was just leaving that there. They hadn't spoken in years, now he wanted to know things. He had questions. He ran after Tim, catching up at the truck. "Hey, wait up Riggins. You just going to leave?"

"Ah…Coach I got to get back to work…" Tim held his hands up, smiling a little. "Um…you can stop by later, if you want? The big white house out on Highway 231. You can't miss it."

"I'll be there. I want to talk to you."

"I imagine you do sir."

He smiled, leaving Tim to his truck, going back to Buddy, who was refereeing another fight between Sophie and someone else. Man, that kid's a hot-head, he thought, shaking his head and smiling a little.

They finished practice and he left Buddy to wrangle two five-year old Riggins's into his SUV, driving around Dillon and studying the rest of the town. He even drove by their old house, finding that the new owners had cleaned it up some more. He just never had time to do anything to that house.

He drove through a newer neighborhood, studying the homes. They were modern, but also had that old "country" feel. He picked up his cell phone, pulling into the driveway of one of the empty ones with a "For Sale" sign on it.

"Hello?"

"Hey honey, how's Gracie doing?"

"Gracie's fine, how are you?"

"Did you know that Tim Riggins and Lyla Garrity got married and had twins? Both of them play football, even the girl, who has an arm that's better than Jason Street. She's five."

Tami sighed on the other end of the phone. "Did Buddy Garrity get you drunk? I think it's only four in the afternoon out there."

"No, Buddy Garrity did not get me drunk," he said, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the house. He peeked inside. It was really nice. Tami would like it. "Did you know they have a Starbucks in Dillon now? There's even a Target outside of city limits."

"That's nice. What are you getting at Eric?"

"It's only four hours from Austin."

"We are not living in Dillon and commuting to Austin."

"They're going to give me a massive pay increase if I take this job."

"And I'm getting a pay increase too, what are you getting at?"

He sighed, looking up at the house. It really was perfect. "I'm getting at maybe we should buy a house in Dillon. For the kids and stuff."

"Matt and Julie are not moving to Dillon."

"You know what I mean."

"A vacation home in Dillon?" she laughed. He could hear her chuckling in the background while she did something else, probably washing dishes or picking up laundry. "We'll talk about it honey."

"Fine. I've got to go over to Tim's house. He and I are going to have a very long, very serious chat for why we didn't know about his children or Lyla or anything. You ask Julie why she didn't know either."

"Honey, I'll believe it when I see it."

"Better believe it." He said goodbye and hung up, driving off down the highway.

It was time to go find out why Tim had kept silent for this long.


	2. Getting Acquainted

A/N: I broke the second part into two, so there is still one chapter left. Hopefully I did Coach justice. Tim is Tim, he's quite a challenge and at the same time very fun for me to write so I do hope their interactions are in character here, but at the same time, if they're not...oh well. :) Enjoy.

* * *

Eric shook his head at the wide expanse of land in front of him, looking around at the fields of nothing, with trees here and there and then he saw it. Damn.

Tim wasn't kidding saying he couldn't miss the big white house.

It looked like it started off as just a couple bedrooms, maybe single story, but had been added on here and there, until it was a huge white home with dark shingles for the roof. The shutters and the doors were painted dark blue, he could see as he drove up the winding paved driveway. There were three cars off to the side. The old black truck he remembered Riggins had as a teenager, a silver Lexus SUV, and then the black truck Tim drove earlier.

There were kids' toys all over the place, including a castle-like swingset in the back, with a tire-swing hanging in the tree. He walked up onto the large wraparound porch, knocking on the double doors.

There was a loud whooping sound from inside and the door tugged open. Sophie stood on the other side, wearing a princess dress and a Panther football helmet. "Hello Coach Taylor," she greeted him politely. She smiled wide. "Come inside."

"Honey who is it?"

He looked up, stepping into the foyer and laughing at Lyla, who broke into a small smile. He didn't know her as well as he did his team, but he felt like he was seeing an old friend. "Lyla," he drawled, reaching out to hug her. She was just as pretty as ever, he thought, grinning.

She laughed, hugging him hard and fast. "How are you Coach?" she asked, grinning wide and placing her hand on Sophie's shoulder, to prevent her from running outside. She didn't even need to look down. "Go find your brother."

"He hit me."

"You hit him first so you deserved it." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Tim's out back in the workshop. I'll take you there." A loud crash came from the living room and she barely flinched. She smiled slowly and a dog and cat screeched, both of them running around the corner, the cat chasing after the monster-sized dog, Liam following after with a colander on his head and waving a mixing spoon in the air.

He just looked after the mess and then over at Lyla. She just smiled again. "Welcome to Casa Riggins." She led him through the house, kicking aside toys and other assorted child paraphernalia. She went through the spacious living room, with some cartoon playing loudly on the big flatscreen in the corner.

Out through a set of French doors and down another set of steps from the porch, Lyla led him down a slope and to a barn-like workshop, the sound of rock music and power tools blasting from the open doors. "He's in a mood," she warned, walking into the barn. "Hey!" she barked.

Tim looked up over a large block of wood he was cutting, reaching for a small remote and flicked off the music. He powered down the saw, taking off his safety glasses and slipping them into the pocket of his flannel shirt. He frowned a little. "Coach. You stopped by."

Lyla walked around the side of the workbench, her arms crossed. "Liam broke the vase in the dining room, I'm off to clean up and beat his butt," she said, frowning a little at him. "And I know you don't want to, but you are cooking tonight and the kids are hungry."

"They'll be hungrier after I try to cook. Just order a pizza."

"They had pizza last night." Her voice dropped, more serious. "I'm not doing this with you again." She turned away, smiling a little at him and left the barn.

Eric could hear her yelling to the kids to get in the house and wash their hands a moment later. He turned back to Tim, who was scowling, watching her walk back. He turned away and began to clean up sawdust, not saying a word.

What was that about? To break the ice, he began to walk around the woodworking shop. "This seems very loud for you." He placed his hand on a rocking chair. It was very nice. "Nice work here."

"Thanks." Tim moved the large block of wood he'd been working on, which appeared to be a bookcase, off to the side. He used a rag to dust off sawdust, walking over to the corner for a broom and began to sweep it up, finally lifting his head and gazing over at him. "So what can I do for you Coach?"

Best to start off easy. Apparently he'd walked into something here. "I just thought I'd stop by and say hello. Congratulate you on this life you've built for yourself. You never called or wrote or anything after I left Dillon. Matt apparently doesn't know anything either, otherwise I'd think he'd have told me." He turned around. "When I left it seemed like you weren't sure what path you were going to take." He paused, looking up, his voice quiet. "I'm glad to see you took the right path."

Tim seemed to smile a little, leaning on the broom, at least recognizing that. "It was either take this path or go down a hole, sir."

He nodded, his arms crossing over his chest. He paused. "Your daughter is a good player. She's got a good arm. Hot temper though."

"Yeah, well, she's like me. Quiet until you set us off on something." He set the broom back in the corner, waiting a minute before turning back around. "Buddy call you out here for her?"

"And to catch up, I think, once his sources got back to him I would be in the area."

"I see." Tim turned away, starting to clean off the saw. His voice was soft. "You going to come back to Dillon?"

"No. Austin." He frowned a little, his hands going to his hips, as though they were back on the field and Tim was being his surly drunk self. "Is there something I'm not aware of son? Between you and Lyla or between you and me?"

Tim let the saw down with a loud thud, lifting his eyebrows a little. "Coach," he whispered. "I sent you letters and you barely replied. You left and you…left us. Again. So excuse me for not wanting you to know every detail of my life now. Or is it so shocking that I now have a house and a business and a wife and kids?"

That's what this was about, he frowned, staring over at Tim, who looked hurt. Really, really hurt. And defensive.

God, he was…he was always so quiet about the pain he was always in. Eric frowned harder. He reached to tilt his baseball hat back a little so he could see clearer. It was like he was talking to that scared high school student again. But it was different. Tim never said a word about how he felt. Ever. "I moved from Dillon," he said, quietly. "Not you. Or the others."

"Yeah, well…didn't seem that way Coach." He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, his voice soft again, his eyes not lifting up from where he was cleaning off some of the woodworking tools with a rag. "I..I let you down, you know?"

Aw, damnit. "You didn't let me down."

"Yeah I did, even after prison, you still…you still didn't get it. I could still see it." Tim closed his eyes again, tossing the tools into a box. He shook his head again, almost speaking to himself, his voice so soft. "Took years to get people to forget that I was the football player loser kid who went to jail."

But you still think I think that, Eric concluded, closing his eyes and lowering his head. He wondered about what to say, how to form his words. He looked up, when Sophie wandered into the barn, headed straight for Tim.

Tim looked down at her, his arms crossed, his face suddenly brightening. "Can I help you?"

"Fix my shoe."

"Fix what?"

"My shoe." She jumped up and down, holding the shoe in her hand. "My shoe! My shoe! Fix it!"

"What? I'm sorry, you'll have to repeat yourself. I didn't quite hear you."

Sophie made a face and held her arms up. "Please. Please fix my shoe Daddy."

"Ah, so that's what you were saying, okay, well then I will be more than happy to fix your shoe, let me see." He lifted Sophie up onto his hip, holding the shoe, studying the gash on the side separating it practically in half. "Well Soph, it's a goner. How did you do this?"

"I tripped."

"On a knife?"

"On the grass." Sophie made another face and wrapped her arms around his neck, looking over and smiling again. "Hi Coach Taylor."

"Hello Sophie."

Tim set her back down on the ground, handing her the shoe. "Go put it inside and put on another pair of shoes. I don't want you sick again."

"I wasn't sick."

"Oh no, you were just coughing and sneezing and getting boogers everywhere because you were healthy."

She giggled, nodding. "Yup." Then she took off again back towards the house, yelling about her broken shoe.

He glanced at Tim, who was smiling at Sophie, watching her run away. "You're good with her."

"Yeah, well, she's my kid. Right?"

"Not all parents are good with children. Look at your parents."

Tim sighed, shaking his head a little, moving around the barn, and keeping his hands busy. "Yeah, well, that's past."

"She seems like a really good kid. Your boy seems like you, at least on the football field."

"He's more like his mother," Tim whispered. He smiled a little, picking up some more of the tools, setting them in the box at the end of the workbench. "He's strong, but…he's like…" He picked up the block of wood, turning it around in his hands, speaking quietly. "Like wood. He's easy to cut and shape, but try hitting it and you'll break your hand."

Eric nodded and kept his arms over his chest. "So you sell this stuff?"

"Sometimes." He leaned back against the bench. "Mostly flip houses and do remodeling stuff. That kind of a thing."

"When did you start that?"

"After you left," Tim said, softly. He shrugged again. "What do you want to know Coach? I didn't ask you here, you came. You want to know how I got out of that hole? Fine. I got a job, I convinced them I wasn't a felon, and I actually worked. It sucked, but I did it."

"I don't appreciate the attitude," he said, his voice firm.

Tim took a deep breath, looking down again. "Sorry."

Good, he thought with a small smile. He nodded towards Tim's left hand, the wedding ring. "And Lyla? When did she come along? Matt and Julie never said a thing."

He rolled his eyes. "Buddy. Long story. She had a fiancé. Buddy hated him, somehow made him go away and suddenly…we were pregnant and married."

"You mean married and pregnant?"

Tim smiled a little, cocking his head. "Do I Coach?"

Ah, I see, he thought, chuckling a little, nodding his head. "Okay. Fair enough." He shook his head a little. There was the big question still looming for him. He chuckled again, glancing back at Tim. "Why didn't I know about this?"

"Because Coach. People move on. You did. You were already moving on. Didn't want you to…to worry about me or anything."

It was so funny, how…contradictory some of this was. I guess that's why they call them feelings, Eric thought with a small smile. Tim was mad he abandoned them, never wrote, never called, never cared. And yet he freely admitted that he didn't want to bother him. Geez.

He sighed, closing his eyes. "Tim," he whispered, lifting his eyes again, staring at the other man, once he had the words. "Of all my football players, I worried about you the most. But I also worried about you the least."

"Sir?"

How could he explain this? He leaned against one of the workbenches, his voice firm, hoping he can at least impart something on Tim Riggins for once. "You were troubled, you were apathetic, and you didn't know your own talent or realize what you could do with your life. I worried for you. Of all the players, I worried for you, because I knew you were better than what I was seeing." He took a deep breath, smiling a little. "And after you got out prison and I saw…how different you were, how…serious and when I left, how much it seemed you wanted to change your life, I realized that you would be fine Tim. You didn't need what Smash needed or Jason or even Matt. You have it and for that, I never worried about you."

"And," he continued, lifting his hand. "I am sorry I didn't visit you in prison or come to see you after we moved to Philadelphia. I'm sorry I never wrote you back and you feel as though I abandoned you." He smiled a little. "But you seem to have done quite well without your high school football coach riding your ass well into adulthood."

Tim smiled a little, looking down at his crossed ankles. "Yeah. Sorry Coach."

"Don't be sorry, you of all people have right to wonder if you were abandoned." He smiled wider. "So…you going to tell me why Lyla's mad at you?"

"Oh, I don't know."

He chuckled. "Women."

"Could be anything Coach. I was drinking too much, I didn't do the laundry, I didn't take some meeting she wanted me to take, or I said I'd cook dinner and just got pizza four days in a row. Pick one." He rolled his eyes, his voice softening as he stepped away. "Plus she's pregnant again."

His eyes widened. "What?!"

"Oh, yeah, she's got a bun cooking." Tim just acted like it was no big deal, leaving the barn and heading back towards the house.

Unbelievable, Eric laughed, shaking his head. He glanced back towards the house. Wow. He frowned a little. Tim just walked on off. No way.

This conversation still wasn't over.


	3. Until We Meet Again

A/N: This is the last chapter. Enjoy :) I have another fic in the works, with original characters (since they are the kids of the current characters) but it's going to be very, very long and I don't have near enough finished to start posting. Enjoy this last chapter. Thanks for all the reviews. Hope I did Coach justice. :)

ETA: I just want to say, enjpy this fic at face value. It's fic. Not literature so if things are exaggerated (ex- children), it is all in good fun.

* * *

Eric followed after Tim, stopping between the barn and the house when Liam ran out holding a football between his small hands, looking up at Tim expectedly. Eric wondered if this was a common thing between the two of them. "You wanna' show Coach?" Tim asked Liam, pointing towards him.

Liam nodded, jumping up and down, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. "Yup, yup, yup! Watch me Coach, I can throw a spiral!"

"I can throw better!" Sophie yelled, flying around from the other side of the house, her helmet and princess gown gone, now wearing a 33 jersey with her jeans and flip flops. Eric chuckled to himself. She looked like a mini-Tim. Except her volume switch was on full-blast.

He stepped off to the side, watching the two of them throwing the ball, both with arms he hadn't seen in kids their age in forever. He began to do the "coach thing", calling out for one of them to lower their elbow, raise their wrist, that sort of thing. They were good, they just needed control. Heck, they were five. If they had any talent at all it needed to be carefully honed as they grew up before they lost complete control. Or, he suspected, in the case of their genes, became apathetic.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tim and Lyla standing on the porch, bending their heads together, whispering about something seriously. Fighting? It didn't seem like a full on fight. Lyla looked frustrated and Tim looked like he was poking her in the stomach with his finger.

She'd cave, he figured, frowning a little, realizing that her frown was slowly turning upward into a smile until she finally yelled something at him, threw her arms in the air and then Tim was grabbing her around the waist, lifting her up, sending her laughing before she pushed him away and went back in the house.

Young love, he sighed, shaking his head, even if the two of them were over 30. It felt like young love. Reminded him of Tami and him at that age.

A few minutes later, Tim returned holding a bottle of beer. He glanced at the label, his eyebrows lifting. Tim shrugged at the silent question, whispering. "I don't drink when the kids are around."

Eric took the O'Douls, smiling a little. "Thank you." He nodded towards the two kids. "They're good."

"Yeah," Tim sighed. "They were a lot of work so I'll keep them." He glanced sideways again. "So Austin, huh? Not Dillon? I don't have to tell Billy to watch out for his job?

He shook his head, looking down at the grass. "No," he whispered. He laughed. "No, I'm not coming back to Dillon. Just…just passing through. Buddy wanted me to stop by and I thought it might be time. To see how much things change." And boy did they ever change. They changed, but then some things were the same.

"Things are different around here though Coach, if you do want to come back. It's not the same place." Tim tugged at the wrapper on his beer bottle. "Lots of people have left, some have come back…football is still football though. That won't ever change."

"You've changed," Eric whispered. He smiled a little at the sudden lift of Tim's head. Oh yeah, they still hadn't finished their conversation from the barn.

He got the dark look, the one where Tim didn't want someone to keep talking, but he wouldn't say anything if they did. He continued, his voice quiet, speaking the truth. He was always keen on speaking the truth. "After I left…you might not have needed anymore help, because you could do it on your own, and I didn't work, but I will not pretend and say you were perfectly fine. You were…lost. You didn't know which way was up and which was down, but you know what Tim? I said as much a few minutes ago, but I have watched you come back time and time again from the bottom. Harder and faster than before."

He continued, quiet, gesturing to the house. "I come back now, after not hearing about you or from you for years, and you had every right to just let go and let people move on and so did I, but…but now…now I see this place you've built. Your wife and your kids, your family. I'm very proud of you Tim. You were always the…the player on my team that I didn't quite know what to do with. You needed discipline but you needed compassion. I never knew how to coach you until you were gone." He took a deep breath. "And don't ever think you disappointed me Tim. I told you at your parole hearing, years and years ago, but you did not let me down. You could never let me down and I am proud of you."

The other man nodded and looked down at his feet, digging his boot heel into the dirt. Eric smiled a little. Tim didn't get compliments a lot. It made him flash back to when he went to apologize for his behavior over that whole Julie debacle. Tim just stood there, getting compliments and apologies, but it was uncomfortable for him, even back then. "Thank you Coach," he whispered. He was about to say something else, but Liam ran over, interrupting.

"Daddy!" Liam held up his arms. He waited until he was up in Tim's arms before grinning, a sweet, dimpled smile like Lyla's. "Coach Taylor will you come back to Dillon and coach me at football? Mommy says you live in Penn…Pencil…" he struggled with the word, giving up.

"Pennsylvania," Tim said for him.

"Yeah, that," Liam giggled. He rested his head against Tim's. "What's it like there?"

He narrowed his eyes. Pennsylvania. "It snows," he said darkly, which was all that Liam needed to start giggling and saying he wanted to go there. It wasn't until he told Liam that football wasn't as big in Pennsylvania as it was in Texas did Liam get off the idea of going.

The little boy chattered about his football and about school and said that the baby in mommy's tummy was definitely a boy. Tim just shook his head, smiling, but let Liam continue. He finally came to a sudden stop and looked down at Tim, grinning wide, a couple of teeth missing. "I love you Daddy."

"I love you too," Tim said, kissing his nose. He set him down on the ground. "Go find your sister. And no fighting!"

After about ten seconds, it was Sophie's turn to run over and say how much she loved him and then run back out again. Lyla emerged a minute later, calling both of them into the house.

"Seems like a circus around here."

"It's only going to get worse," Tim said, looking sideways. He shrugged. "Probably should have mentioned it earlier when I said she was knocked up, but it's another set of biscuits. Two girls too. I don't even know what to do with that."

That was…he didn't even know what to say to that, so he took another sip of non-alcoholic beer. He finished the bottle and set it down next to Tim's, on the picnic table behind them. He looked up at the house. The architecture seemed similar. He gestured to it. "Did you build those houses over by Sycamore?"

"Yeah."

That explained it. He nodded, looking over as Lyla walked out, having changed from scrubs into a Dillon Panthers t-shirt and jeans. The baby bump was quite evident now. She patted it, smiling at him. "Sorry I didn't say anything earlier Coach. And my dad didn't say anything because he's still in denial. Two Riggins as grandchildren he could deal with. Four….eh…" She laughed, her arm going around Tim's waist, her head on his shoulder. "Will you stay for dinner Coach? We're going to have to get pizza, so sorry."

"I thought you said no more pizza."

"Tim," she warned.

Tim just rolled his eyes as if to say 'wives.' Yeah, you got that right, he thought, unable to fathom the amount of times Tami started doing something that she'd previously told him not to do or that he couldn't do.

He chuckled. "I would love to stay for dinner Lyla, thank you, but I do need to get back to Austin, my flight leaves tomorrow."

"That's too bad," Lyla said, frowning. She smacked Tim's shoulder again. "Why haven't you told him about any of this? I'm sorry Coach Taylor, I'll send you home with some pictures for Mrs. Taylor."

Tim rolled his eyes again. "Will you stop hitting me?"

"I'll stop hitting you when you get you carry another set of twins around for nine months." She smiled sweetly again. "I'll get you a picture Coach, don't leave until I do." She turned, running back up to the house.

They went around to the front, standing on the porch. He frowned for a second. "You were going to say something?"

"Huh?"

"Before Liam came over, you were going to say something." Eric shrugged. "What?"

Tim frowned, glancing down at his feet again. "Um…just wanted to ask you…it doesn't matter, I was just…" he took a deep breath, looking up again, cocking his head slightly. "Why didn't you write me back in jail?"

Eric furrowed his brow, trying to remember. He closed his eyes for a second. It wasn't that he didn't write back or visit, but…He lifted his head again. "You still wonder about that?"

"Wondering about it now, since we're talking."

He sighed. "Well," he whispered, glancing back at Tim, who was just watching him. He shook his head again. "I don't have a good answer. I guess I just…didn't know what to say to you Tim. Didn't know what you needed or wanted to hear. I don't think I would have been able to help you, so I didn't. It's not a good explanation. I don't have one."

Tim nodded, leaning back against the porch railing. He lifted his shoulders. "S'alright Coach. No one ever wrote me back." He smiled a little, nodding to the house. "She's probably getting you an entire photo album. Kind of has this obsession with documenting stuff."

"Better now than when it's gone by and your kids are married off and you don't have pictures of them."

"They're five. Sophie got married on the playground last month and Lyla was crying and taking pictures of it."

"Who'd she marry?"

"She married Landry Clarke, he was visiting his parents and stopped to see Tyra, because she was in town." Tim shook his head. "My daughter is not getting married. Ever."

Eric chuckled. "Well you say that now. It'll happen one day."

"Nope."

Lyla pushed open the door, stepping out onto the porch, holding a picture. "I found a good one, kind of explains our crazy life."

He smiled, taking it from her and nodding towards her. "Thank you, I'll ensure Tami sees this and send it back."

"Oh don't worry about it. I've got a ton of copies." She grinned again, leaning to give him a hug. "Nice to see you Coach. Don't be a stranger again." She turned to Tim, scowling once more. "Your son just fed pizza to the dog and now Wilson is barfing it back up in the kitchen. Guess who can't bend over to clean it up because your daughters are punching her in the bladder nonstop?"

Tim quirked his lip up. "You know they're always my children when they do something bad, right?"

"That's the way it goes," she teased, kissing his cheek before she bounced away into the house. A minute later the twins came out, munching on pizza. "Bye Coach Taylor!" Liam exclaimed through a mouthful of crust.

"Say bye," Tim ordered Sophie.

Sophie smiled again. "Bye Coach. Can you let me play football for the Panthers? They say I can't because I'm a girl."

He frowned, kneeling down to Sophie's height, tapping her nose. "Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do anything Sophie Riggins. Your dad could graduate high school and land your mother, miracles happen, so you can play football. Got me?"

She giggled again. "Yup. Bye Coach Taylor."

They ran back into the house, throwing pizza in the air and screaming. There must not be an off button on either of them, Eric wondered, standing back up again. He reached out, shaking Tim's hand before giving him a quick bear hug. "Do not," he warned, when he pulled back, eyebrows lifted. "Do not ever go this long without contacting me. Understand?"

"Yes sir," Tim whispered, smiling. He nodded towards the road. "Sure you don't want to come back to this? It's Texas Coach. You can't miss it."

Yeah, you couldn't, he thought, smiling a little and stepping off the porch, calling over his shoulder. "We'll see!"

He left the house, driving back to Austin, and once he was in the hotel room, he studied the photo Lyla had given him. It was the four of them, one of those family portraits that Tami made him and Julie sit for and once Gracie came along they had to do all of them again.

This wasn't like the obviously staged pictures of families, all wearing matching clothes and sitting in front of some nondescript tan background, it was Tim holding Liam upside down and Lyla grabbing hold of Sophie's shoulders, while Sophie held a football in her hands, looking up at Tim. The dog was streaking across the front of the photo, with a cat hanging out in the corner. It was carefree and candid, all four of them grinning.

It had to be one of the few photos of Tim Riggins actually smiling.

He tucked it in his wallet, reminding himself to show Tami.

Back in Philly, he removed the picture, flicking it in her direction. "There you go," he said, kissing her cheek. "I got proof."

Tami just stared at the picture, laughing. "Oh my God. They exist. Riggins children that actually look well behaved!"

"Yeah, well that's not happening."

She smiled, looking up again. "You saved him."

He shook his head, putting the picture on the fridge with the ones of their grandson Henry and Matt and Julie's wedding and his new football team. "No," he said, quiet. "No one saved him. He kind of saved himself."

"Well, you helped."

He shrugged. Not really. He sighed, looking over at her and smiling. "We're going back."

Tami just smiled, nodding. "Yeah. Back to Texas."

"We won't be able to stay away from that town. You know we won't." He walked around the counter, kissing her cheek. "We do have to show up for Pee Wee football games when we move back to Austin, though."

"Why?"

"I promised Sophie Riggins I'd help her work on her arm. She can throw a damn good spiral, but she needs some control."

"You helping a little girl play football in Texas? In Dillon?" Tami laughed, grinning wide. "Well I have seen everything. You better make sure she gets to play. If she's as good as you seem to think, she better be able to play."

He shrugged. "We'll see. It's a new generation. We can even get Henry playing with them when he comes to visit us."

"Sweetheart Henry likes to paint and draw, he's not into football, he is his father's son."

"And he is his grandfather's grandson, so we'll see." He chuckled to himself, tapping the picture on the fridge before walking away, going to start packing up the house.

THE END


End file.
